21. Kerry #2
By the intake of breath and the pink that’s climbing up her cheeks, I’d say that Amy is very interested in that idea, even if she is tired.
I cup her cheek, enjoying the soft skin beneath my fingers. “We don’t have to do anything tonight, if you’re too tired. Or if you’d like to just sit back and relax and let me do all the work, I’d be quite happy with that. Whatever you need, leannán.”
Amy furrows her brows and huffs at me. “And leave you unsatisfied? I think that would make me an awful wife.”
My eyes narrow at that, the burning heat of anger crawling up my chest. The pressure that’s been placed on my leannán is revolting, enough to make her think that she must constantly give if she wants to receive anything at all.
“No. I think, as my wife, you owe me nothing in that regard. It’s only what you want to give, leannán.
I’ll be satisfied if the only thing I get to do is give you pleasure. ”
I can tell she’s still confused, still torn. The world has bruised her soul, extorted her very bodily autonomy, left her feeling like she’s in debt to the world. “I don’t want to be a bad lover.”
I can’t help the laugh that is yanked from my chest. “A bad lover? You couldn’t be. Have you not heard me talk about my obsession—?”
“Kerry. I can still be a bad lover even if you’ve been obsessed with me. I can be a disappointment.”
I lean in close to her, resting my head on her forehead. “I’m not just obsessed with you anymore, Amy. I’m in love with you, and I think I have been for quite some time.”
Her sharp intake of breath, how her brown eyes widen, her cheeks growing pink…she didn’t know. She didn’t think I loved her, but was just obsessed with the idea of her. Still.
“Did you not hear my vows? I meant every word, leannán.” I pause, pulling back slightly to look at her. “Amy, why would you stay with me, marry me, if you didn’t think I loved you?” I’m almost scared of the answer.
Amy looks down, shame making her eyebrows crease and her lip wobble. She gets up from the bed and starts pacing, and my chest tightens in worry. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Please don’t.
I’m torn between the primal need to get on my knees and beg for her to stay, to grab her hips and shake her until she understands the depth of my love for her, and the overwhelming breadth of my love for her, which insists I let her go if that’s what she wants.
Do I genuflect before her? Or offer her a flight home?
Before I can settle my thoughts and fight off the beast in me, Amy turns to me.
Her body is tense, like an elastic band pulled taut, ready to snap.
“I married you because I love you, too. Let me make that clear.” Her words make my mind reel as I try to process it.
She holds her hands out in front of her, as if she can sense the animal in me and is trying to calm it.
“But, no, I didn’t realize you really felt that way.
You’ve never said it before. I just assumed the vows were…
well, they weren’t written by you or anything.
They’re the classic lines. I wanted to, I meant mine, but… it’s what we had to do.”
“I didn’t have to do anything!” I stand up quickly, not sure when my breath began coming in fast and labored.
“Don’t you get it, Amy? When it comes to you, it’s always been want.
Not have to, not obligatory, you’re not a fecking chore.
” My voice softens, brows knitting together. “When will you understand that?”
Amy stares at me like she’s not quite sure what to think. Her throat bobs as she swallows and looks down. “I’m not used to that.”
All of the air is expelled from my lungs and I close my eyes.
“I know, leannán. Perhaps I’ve been too harsh.
” I know better. I know how she’s been treated, I’ve seen it with my own damn eyes.
It’s only been a few months since she left that environment, and I’ve still been proving myself to her.
Of course these wounds aren’t going to be healed overnight, and yet I’m angry at her like they should be.
As if my mere words could heal what years’ worth of actions hurt.
Maybe not angry. Just frustrated. Just heartbroken that she should ever think such things about herself, about me, about us for even a minute.
“Maybe I need you to be a little harsh.” Her voice is quiet, but it also sounds contemplative. There’s an underlying heaviness in it, but it’s almost as if she’s trying to mask it with a light casualness that doesn’t belong in this conversation.
My eyes snap open to regard her. Her shoulders are still pulled in, her eyes a tad flighty, like she’s trying to maintain eye contact but is struggling to actually follow through with it. “The last thing you need is harsh. I think you’ve had enough of that in your life.”
Her shoulders relax marginally. She looks off to the side, towards the window, and I can tell she’s thinking, mulling over my words in her mind, turning them over and dissecting them.
There’s an intensity to Amy that is more intimidating than she even knows, the power that she has over people without even realizing it.
“Maybe harsh isn’t the right word, then,” she starts slowly, hesitating over her words to give herself more time to think.
“Maybe enthusiastic or emphatic would be better choices.”
She turns to look at me, checking on my reaction. But, in truth, I have very little to give her. I cross my arms over my chest, resisting the urge to continue her pacing my own damn self. I mull over her words, trying to fit this new piece into the puzzle that is my darling Amy.
This isn’t new information, though, is it?
This is classic Amy. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this earlier.
I step towards her, fingers trailing across her jaw.
“You need confidence, security in my love and care for you. I’m just trying to figure out how to provide you with exactly that, and I hope you’ll have grace with me in the meantime.
” Frustration builds in my chest. “If I must admit, Amy, this feels a bit like a rehashing of things we’ve figured out before.
It feels like we’ve had this exact conversation not too long ago.
I would’ve thought that, over the course of these past months and our wedding, things would have changed. ”
Her eyebrows raise, as if she hadn’t considered that.
Amy lets out a low breath and runs a hand through her hair.
I can’t help but pause to notice how pretty she is, still in her white sundress.
“I…guess I can understand that. I know it does feel like a rehashing of things, but…you have to understand after a lifetime of having people treating me like an obligation, a few months aren’t enough to fix all that.
A lot of trust has been built, but I guess… not enough to fix me.”
“Fix you?” I scoff and shake my head. I cup her cheeks, making sure she’s looking at me. “There’s nothing to fix. What we have here is just…a bit of a misunderstanding.”
Her eyes search mine. “What do you mean?”
My thumbs caress the apples of her cheeks.
“You struggle to believe anyone would love you without you being useful. You struggle to trust love when it’s presented to you freely.
But me? I struggle to express that love.
It feels unsafe and too vulnerable. Obsession?
Fine. That doesn’t feel as scary. But I hid even that for a while with you.
Love, however? That’s a different thing entirely, leannán. ”
I can see the understanding dawn in her eyes. She nods. “Well, aren’t we a pair, then?”
I chuckle and lean down to kiss her forehead. “That we are. Now, get on the bed.”
“On the bed?” Her eyebrows raise.
I nod. “You heard me. I’m going to take care of you properly, without anything in return, and we’re going to be doing this until you understand that pleasure in our marriage bed is never something that’s obligated, from either of us.
I want to please you, no strings attached, and you’re allowed to receive pleasure without needing to reciprocate.
I’m going to please you until you’re tired, and then we’re going to go right to sleep. Understood?”
I can tell she’s struggling to believe it, to accept this is really what I want. Or maybe the concept makes her outright uncomfortable in and of itself, after years of being told that she needs to be useful in order to be loved.
Good. It might be uncomfortable for a bit until she unlearns it.
She lets out a low exhale and nods. “All right, Kerry. I trust you.”